


Happy New Year, Chief

by Python07



Series: Holiday Fluff [3]
Category: Batman (1966)
Genre: F/M, M/M, fluff for the hardest working cop in Gotham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:23:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3093383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sequel to A Quiet Christmas and A Quiet Morning -- New Year's Eve fluff for Chief O'Hara</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy New Year, Chief

There was so many high society people and so much expensive food and drink that he felt out of place. Despite his rank and the commendations on his dress uniform, he was still basically a simple copper (It was funny how the Commissioner never let him use that as an excuse to get out of social events even if it was true). He found a wall to hold up just to watch the fancily dressed ladies and gents. The women wore jewels that he would never be able to afford and he didn’t even want to think about the mens’ tailor bills.

“Oh, there you are, O’Hara,” Gordon hissed in exasperation, appearing at his side. “What are you doing hiding over here?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

Gordon put his hands on his hips. “I know that you’d rather be at the New Year’s Eve party at old sergeant McCready’s bar…”

“At least I’d be able to get a Guiness there,” he muttered.

Gordon continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “But I shouldn’t have to remind you how important the Wayne Foundation annual New Year’s Eve party is.” 

“I know,” he grumbled. 

Gordon leaned in closer. “Look, I know how…stuffy…this is for you. Just have a drink and try to have some fun.”

He nodded to Gordon’s glass. He lowered his voice and let his brogue get a bit thicker, like his old Da’s. “But that stuff is shite. It’s got no kick.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Not all of us have your tolerance, Chief,” he replied dryly.

He smirked. “Bunch of lightweights.”

Gordon chuckled. “All right. Just give it another hour and I’ll let you sneak off. You can tell McCready that he still owes me for the last poker game.”

He made a show of checking his watch. He grinned. “Will do.”

Suddenly, Gordon grimaced. “Not her again.” 

He tried not to laugh as the Commissioner pulled him away from the wall just to hide behind him. “Who?”

Gordon hid behind his back. He peeked over his shoulder. “The wealthy widow Agnes Blueblood. I’ve been ducking her all night. She says I remind her of her late husband.”

“Oh, you charmer, you,” he teased.

“Shut up, O’Hara.”

He saw the lady standing with a group of other socialites but she didn’t seem to be paying attention to them. She was looking around as if searching for someone. She was tall and gaunt, dripping with pearls. She wore a peacock patterned sequined dress.

“That’s a mighty impressive dress.” He pressed his lips together not to laugh. “But she has the face of a great dane.”

“And she’s eighty-five,” Gordon hissed. He smacked his shoulder. “Help me to the next room. Warden Crichton is in there and she finds him distasteful.”

“All right. Stay behind me.”

He inched out and into the hall, keeping his front towards the great dane the whole time. He shielded Gordon until his boss could disappear into the next room. He covered his mouth to stifle a laugh.

He checked his watch again. “Okay, another half hour to kill.” 

He was about to go back and resume his place against the wall when a hand yanked him into the dark cloak room. His back hit a wall. A warm body pressed against him and a familiar tongue invaded his mouth. He groaned low in his throat and surrendered to the intense kiss.

The talented mouth pulled away from his only to trail along his jaw and up to his ear. “I’m glad I didn’t have to go pick the wallflower, Chief,” the voice slurred merrily. “I may have done something scanda…scan…scandalous.”

The hands groping at him were clumsy and he had the taste of champagne on his lips. He chuckled. “You’re drunk.”

There was a bite to his ear. “I love this uniform. It’s hard not to stare. It makes me want to do wicked things to you. I can see the headline. Gotham City Police Chief has his dick sucked in front of Gotham’s elite.”

He grabbed the hands before they could roam too low. “Flamin’ drunk.”

The hands pulled away and tried to get at the uniform buttons. Lips nuzzled the side of his neck. A hot whisper followed. “So?”

He swiftly reversed their positions. He captured that wicked mouth in a thorough kiss. He was pleased at the disappointed whimper when he pulled back. “No more til we get home.”

“Then let’s get the hell out of here.”


End file.
